


The walls are cold, your arms are warm

by janescott



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: AO3 Fundraiser Auction, Fluff, M/M, cloak sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 20:09:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janescott/pseuds/janescott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fluffy out-take from my 2012 Paperlegends fic, Stop My Heart, Start Your Pulse. It's all Merlin/Arthur, and it's all fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The walls are cold, your arms are warm

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by Magenta. For Lis, who bid on me MONTHS ago. I'm so sorry for the wait. 
> 
> Merlin belongs to the BBC and Shine, not to me, alas.

“Merlin - dammit!” Arthur curses under his breath as George appears in front of him, one eyebrow raised politely. He’d forgotten. Again.

“Sorry, George,” he mutters as the manservant comes toward him and stops at a respectful distance. 

Arthur _hates_ respectful distances. He sighs and pushes a hand through his hair.

“Could you - fetch me some dinner and then have a bath prepared, George?”

George’s only response is a quiet, “Of course, sire,” before he leaves the room with barely any noise at all.

Not like Merlin, who was - is - was - a whirlwind of noise and colour, always. Arthur mutters to himself and throws himself down on to the bed, aware that he’s acting like a petulant child, but unable to stop himself. 

He’s not in the mood to deal with - well, with anything really. Ever since he found out about Merlin’s magic, he’s been like a bear with a sore head, snapping at everyone and everything. 

His first instinct had been to banish Merlin entirely, their personal feelings set aside. Arthur had felt _betrayed_ , and it had only been the speedy intervention of Gaius and his knights that had stopped him. He had, of course, banished Merlin as his manservant; sent him off to be Gaius’s apprentice.

He hasn’t seen Merlin in weeks, but he still calls out for him at the end of the day. Now though - Arthur sighs and pushes his hand through his hair again. He’s _tired_ after a long, niggling day spent sequestered with his father and advisers, going over a long, involved, incredibly _dull_ border treaty. And then - and then there had been Lancelot.

The knights had left him alone about Merlin, after convincing Arthur not to banish him back to Ealdor, but somehow, today, something had changed. Or, Arthur suspects, his knights had become tired of talking it out among themselves to no resolution.

Whatever happens next between himself and Merlin - is entirely up to Arthur.

As Lance - never one to mince his words - had pointed out, Merlin risked his life every single day in Camelot; keeping his magic hidden the only way he could survive. And as much as Merlin loved Arthur - “and the gods know, Arthur, he DOES love you” - he couldn’t tell Arthur about the magic.

Until Merlin was forced to use it right in front of Arthur’s face, to save the prince’s life.

“You have to talk to him, Arthur. You need to make this right - for both of you. And for Camelot. Camelot needs you both to be strong. You are so much better together.”

Arthur sighs and tips his head back, Lance’s words going around in his head. The thing is - Lance is right. Of course he’s right. As much as Arthur doesn’t want to admit it, has spent many fruitless nights denying it - he needs Merlin. He … he pushes his tongue against his teeth, listening to the thud of his heartbeat for a moment. 

He’s known about Merlin’s feelings for a long time; for months now. And Merlin has - had been patient, and steadfast and loyal, taking a step back while Arthur worked through his own feelings for his disobedient, clumsy, idiotic _apparently magic_ manservant.

And well. Merlin. It turns out that Merlin is actually ridiculously easy to love, and it had felt like relief for Arthur to admit it to himself. 

However, before he could tell _Merlin_ , that clumsy, disobedient idiot had said he’d had something to tell Arthur. 

And now, here he is. On his own, waiting for the oh-so-polite George; and not having any idea where Merlin is.

Although. Arthur tips his head up again, and smiles. He’s not certain if he’ll find Merlin in his accustomed thinking place on the castle’s buttresses, but it’s a place to start. 

Arthur pushes himself off the bed and grabs his cloak from the hook by the door, suddenly needing to move; adrenaline pumping through his veins. 

He wraps up in his cloak and hurries out of his room, intent now on finding Merlin - and on not running into George.

He lets his feet guide him, up and up; and out the ancient door that leads to the very top of the castle. Arthur pushes open the door and shivers in the sudden slap of cold that assaults his senses.

He takes a breath, blinks water out of his eyes and scans around until he sees what he expects to see: Merlin leaning against one of the thick castle walls. 

He’s got his back to Arthur, and Arthur just stills, watching for a moment, pulling his cloak tighter around himself. Merlin is still, his head tilted up towards the stars, and Arthur breathes in the peaceful, silent moment before he moves. He kicks at a small rock to let Merlin know that he’s there.

“Not exactly the best night for stargazing, Merlin,” he says softly as he comes to stand beside him. 

Arthur tilts his head sideways, studying Merlin’s face. His cheeks are red from the cold, cold air, and the tip of his nose is the same. His hair is pulled in all directions, and Arthur is certain he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life. He feels a tremble then, from Merlin’s body to his, and sighs, because of course the idiot isn’t wearing any of the winter clothes Arthur’s had made for him, but his accustomed servant garb, that couldn’t keep out a light summer breeze.

He shakes his head and mutters to himself as he takes off his cloak and quietly places it over Merlin’s shoulders. Merlin shifts at that, turning fully to face Arthur, one eyebrow raised in a disconcerting imitation of Gaius.

“I. Um. I’m. Um.”

Merlin says nothing, but in the faint glow of the full moon, Arthur can see his mouth twitch up in a half-smile. He pulls Arthur’s cloak tighter around himself and lifts a fold to his face, as though he’s already forgetting Arthur’s scent, and needs to memorise it again.

Arthur feels a twinge in his heart at that, and sighs. He can face down armies; his father; any threat to Camelot, but _feelings_.

“I’m - I'm sorry,” he blurts out suddenly and fast, causing Merlin to blink at him in apparent shock.

“I - Merlin, I’m so sorry, and I _miss_ you, and I keep looking for you at night - “ Arthur bites his lip to stop himself babbling. He’s the future king of Camelot and he’s _babbling_.

Merlin is folded almost completely inside Arthur’s cloak now, just his head peeking out the top. The moonlight is shading his face, making his eyes oblique and his cheekbones stand out in sharp relief. If Arthur were on steadier ground, he would reach out to trace that shape; memorise it with his fingertips.

Arthur spreads out his hands and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he says, calmer now. “I’m sorry I pushed you away like that, I’m sorry that I - I _failed_ you … I - I don’t know what else to say. Merlin, please.”

A cloud covers the moon, plunging them both into black night. Arthur shivers and waits as the cloud passes over, revealing Merlin to him again. Merlin studies his face, his eyes searching for what, Arthur doesn’t know, but whatever it is, Merlin seems to find it.

He steps closer, opening up the cloak and waiting until Arthur steps inside the circle of its warmth. Arthur sighs and rests his hands on Merlin’s hips, closing his eyes.

Merlin draws him in closer, wrapping the cloak around both of them, letting Arthur soak in some of his warmth.

“Does this mean - what I … hope it means?” Merlin’s voice is low, and almost fragile, his breath warm on Arthur’s ear. Arthur closes his eyes, and sighs out a long breath.

They’ve already navigated some rocky terrain, and he knows that - in the future - it’s bound to get even more unsteady. But - if they have each other, if they have faith, and trust and _love_ for each other … he turns his head so he can meet Merlin’s mouth with his own. 

The kiss is slow and warm; Arthur slides his hands around Merlin’s hips, resting them on the shallow curve of the small of his back. He can feel Merlin’s hands on his shoulders, gripping tight, as though he thinks Arthur is going to slip away from him again.

“Come on,” Arthur says, tracing Merlin’s full bottom lip with his thumb. “It’s bloody freezing up here.”


End file.
